


Cannibalism and Murder

by ToxicShipper



Category: Hannibal (TV), 킬링 스토킹 | Killing Stalking (Webcomic)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Murder Family, Murder Husbands, Rape, Stockholm Syndrome, not a healthy relationship in any way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25514680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicShipper/pseuds/ToxicShipper
Summary: Will becomes obsessed with his psychiatrist who he believes may be the Chesapeake Ripper. He follows him home and watches him through the window every night, until he finally builds up the courage to break in. What he finds answers his suspicions, but he is more surprised that he still finds himself madly in love with the mysterious man.Hannibal has been toying with his next victim, the scruffy FBI profiler, Will Graham, for weeks. He knows he's being watched and followed, so he sets a foolproof trap for his beautiful stalker. However, once he has Will's life in the palm of his hand, he decides not to make the typical Ripper victim out of him.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 130





	1. What If

**Author's Note:**

> Someone had to do it! I was honestly kind of surprised that I couldn't find a Killing Stalking/Hannibal crossover because the ENERGY of both ships just works so well together. So I decided to write a Hannigram Killing Stalking fic where Hannibal is Sangwoo (but smarter) and Will is Yoonbum (but also a lil smarter).

Will followed his newest obsession home every night. He’d park two blocks away and wait in the bushes in front of the tall, dark house. Watching was what he did best. He needed to see to understand, he needed to _know_ this person. It wasn’t legal, it wasn’t sane, it wasn’t right, but it’s what he did. As an awkward social outcast, he knew no other way to get close to people. And his line of work offered up many excuses to indulge his fantasies.

He was drawn to this person because he had been leading him on since the day they met. Their relationship was that of a cat and a mouse; one was always stalking the other, but the other was always a step ahead. The most frightening part was that Will could never be sure who was the cat and who was the mouse.

The cool, composed psychiatrist had been planting hints. They were subtle, overlooked by everyone but Will. He was playing Will’s game, knowing that only he would be able to understand. He was inviting him in. He knew Will would take the bait because he was desperate to catch the Ripper, no matter who it was. The stress of using his gifts to help the FBI catch the killer was driving him insane, which was why he snuck outside his friend’s house at night just to catch glimpses of his life from the window.

Of course, he knew how to pick locks. He could have broken into Hannibal’s house months ago if he’d really wanted to. The only thing holding him back was fear of jumping the gun. He wanted to be sure that Hannibal was hiding something incriminating before he violated his friend’s trust. He wouldn’t only lose his doctor, his job, and his friend, but possibly the love of his life. If Hannibal was the Ripper, he had to know, even though it terrified him. 

One evening, he waited outside the front window until Hannibal left, and then hastily picked the lock on his front door. Before he could change his mind and run back to his car, he pushed himself into the house and shut the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, he examined his surroundings, using his gift to become Hannibal.

He locked the door behind him and then walked through the pristine kitchen, careful not to leave fingerprints on any of the polished surfaces. Nothing specific came to him, except for a dark, sinister feeling that made his stomach churn. He considered his discomfort to be no more than anxiety about what he was doing. He moved out of the kitchen, the sickening feeling lessening only a little bit, and made his way up the stairs.

The master bedroom was just as gorgeous and neat as the rest of the house. He ran his fingers through the soft fabric of the bed spread, then leaned down to rub his cheek against the pillow. He knew it was impulsive and reckless, but he wanted to leave his mark there. He knew it’s what Hannibal wanted—expected—him to do, because it’s what he had previously done upon entering Will’s home unexpectedly. He breathed in the scent of the older man’s expensive soap and cologne, wanting to crawl under the covers and pretend he was there with him. But he had to finish his search before Hannibal came home. He regretfully dropped the pillow and left the bedroom, running his hand back over the bed as he walked away.

He wandered back down the stairs and looked for an entrance to a garage or a basement, something hidden and private. If he was the Ripper, he would have an underground killing room, a workstation. As if he’d already been through the house, he walked straight up to a door in the back of the house. It was an innocent looking laundry room, but he spotted the out of place rug on the floor and immediately knew that he’d found what he was looking for. He threw the rug back and opened the hatch under it. Cold air wafted up to his face as he started down the creaky wooden stairs into the dark basement below.

His eyes adjusted to the dark in a matter of seconds. He was surrounded by plastic, covering the floor and walls. The whole basement was a refrigerator. Racks of sealed meat hung at the back of the room like a butcher shop in a closet. It wasn’t hard to tell that the drained corpses were not pigs or cows. Will walked forward slowly, surprised that he wasn’t even scared. In a way he’d already known, and Hannibal knew that he knew. Hannibal made this room so easy to find for him because he wanted to be found, but not just by anyone. If Will didn’t know better, he would have felt touched.

A muffled whimper made him whip his head around to a metal operating table in the corner of the basement. A half-conscious woman lied there, hooked up to IV’s and covered in bandages, with duct tape over her mouth. Will stepped closer and her panicked eyes met his. He cringed as he felt her terror and pain surge into his own body. He quickly moved his eyes away from hers and back over to the bandages that wrapped around stubs where her legs should have been. The woman began screaming underneath the tape, sobs wracking her frail torso and tears drenching her face.

Will stood directly over her before he even registered that he had been moving closer the whole time. She stared up at him, pleading for help and writhing painfully in place. “Ssshhh,” he whispered, yanking the IV needles out of her arms and then pressing his hand over her mouth and nose. She screamed and fought with every ounce of strength she had left, which wasn’t a lot, until finally her eyes drifted shut and she fell silent.

Will released her and stepped back, realizing what he’d just done. He shook his head violently and backed up clumsily until he tripped over his own feet and fell to the concrete floor. The base of his spine bruised, but he could barely feel it. He’d never escaped so far into an illusion that he actually committed a murder. He closed his eyes and gripped the sides of his head, curling in on himself. He wanted to wake up in his bed—or anywhere—if it meant this wasn’t real. He regretted coming here, wishing he would have just suppressed his feelings for the doctor and pretended to be ignorant like everyone else. But he knew he couldn’t have done that. He needed an answer and he finally had it. Hannibal was the Ripper, but he still loved him.

He started to recollect himself, scrambling to his knees and grappling at the plastic underneath him to try and ground himself. He had been so lost, he hadn’t heard footsteps creaking down the stairs, or crossing the floor to stand behind him. He was unaware of the other living body in the room until something cold and blunt struck him in the back of the head. He fell forward, blacking out temporarily.

A strong hand gripped his hair and yanked his head up off the floor. “You came,” a familiar voice purred behind him.

_I’m going to die…_

The killer in front of Will wore the skin of his friend. But his maroon eyes were filled with raw, unfiltered bloodlust. This wasn’t the man he knew, this was the Ripper. He held a hammer over his head, one side glistening with fresh blood, the same blood that wetted the back of Will’s head.

Flight instincts kicking in a second too late, Will scrambled backwards across the floor, but he was only pushed into a corner. He stared up at the hammer in Hannibal’s hands, aimed to shatter his skull. _I don’t want to die,_ he snapped into defense.

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted out desperately. “I’m sorry I broke into your house. I just…”

“I know you’ve been watching me,” Hannibal cut in, his voice calm. He didn’t lower the hammer, but he looked over Will with curiosity. He would spare him, for now. “I also know you suspected I was the Ripper. Do you still love me now?” he asked patiently, tilting his head to the side.

Silent tears fell down Will’s face as he nodded slowly. He couldn’t lie, but the truth was even more terrifying. “I promise I won’t tell anyone. I’ll leave town and never come back if you let me go,” he begged breathlessly. He forced himself to meet the killer’s eyes to convey his sincerity.

A smile ghosted over Hannibal’s lips and he lowered the hammer down to his side. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Will,”

“Please…” Will choked. Hannibal knelt in front of him and lifted his chin in between his fingers. He trembled, his breath catching in his throat as the murderer he admired so much handled him like another one of his victims. He was about to become just another victim of the Ripper. He hoped he would at least be displayed just as eloquently as the others. A soft sob built up in his chest and came out as a strangled whimper.

“I do appreciate your manners,” Hannibal said. “But,” he sighed, letting go of Will’s face and turning to the body on the table at the other end of the room, “You already ruined my last project, so I’m going to have to keep you instead,”

Will couldn’t find his voice, he just stared vacantly at the man who literally held his life in his hands. Hannibal turned back to him, his posture relaxing. “Why did you kill her?” he asked excitedly. “Did you wish to put her out of her misery? Or were you trying to get closer to me?” He reached forward to stroke Will’s curls off of his clammy forehead. Will froze, but peeked up at his captor coyly.

“Both, perhaps,” Hannibal mused to himself when he realized Will was too shocked to answer. “You never cease to surprise me, Will,” he said with a captivating smile and soft eyes. For a second he was the familiar Hannibal, not a monster.

“Do you forgive me?” Will asked quietly.

Hannibal smiled and leaned closer to kiss Will’s forehead lightly. “Yes,” he said. Will’s heart wrenched with tainted relief. He let out the breath he’d been holding and reached out to hold onto Hannibal.

Hannibal stared into his stormy blue eyes for a second, and then looked down at the hammer in his hand and sighed. “But I can’t trust you. Not with your legs the way they are,”

Will didn’t have time to decipher Hannibal’s words before he lifted the hammer over his head again and brought it down over Will’s ankle with a sickening crunch. Will screamed, his vision clouding with red. He tried to curl over to protect himself, but Hannibal pushed him over onto his side so he couldn’t get back up. His other ankle was given the same treatment, and that was enough to render him unconscious.


	2. Strangeness and Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal brings Will out of the basement for the first time and sets some ground rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It started from your arms and it's a catalyst  
> You're a chemical that burns there's nothing like this  
> It's the purest element but it's so volatile  
> An equation heaven sent, and you'll forever inject"  
> -Florence and the Machine

Will woke up a day later, not that he knew how long it had been. He was still on the cold floor of the basement, his wrists shackled to a pipe right next to the human meat locker. He struggled to right himself when he remembered where he was, but the movement sent splintering pain through his legs. He laid flat against the floor, crying softly. He knew he was trapped; even if he freed himself he couldn’t go anywhere with two broken legs. He surprisingly found that both of his legs had been splintered and wrapped tightly. _But why_? Hannibal wanted to injure him severely enough to placate him, but not permanently. He thought back to the woman whose legs had been amputated, but she was bandaged and kept alive on IV’s. _Is he only keeping me alive so he can play with me? Will I taste better if I’m alive longer?_

The terror of what Hannibal had in store for him made him lie still on the floor, tears dripping onto the concrete and his shoulders trembling from silent sobs. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut and let Hannibal kill him quickly with a blow to the head.

What could have been minutes or hours later, the hatch to the basement opened and light streamed into the damp room. Will’s heart stopped as he watched his captor descend the stairs. He was dressed in one of his iconic plaid suits, and he carried a small plastic bag with him. He smiled warmly at the half-naked body chained on the floor as if he were a welcomed guest instead of a prisoner.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” he said casually, crossing the room and kneeling down in front of Will. Will wrapped his arms over his bare chest, suddenly aware that he had been stripped to his underwear. Hannibal smirked at his helpless attempt at modesty. “You must be hungry,” he continued, pulling a thermos out of the plastic bag. He opened the lid and sniffed the steam that wafted out proudly. “It’s soup,” he said, scooping a spoonful and holding it out for Will.

Will glared up at him. “Who’s in it?” he growled defiantly.

Hannibal only chuckled. “Don’t be silly, Love,” he grabbed Will’s face and forced the spoon into his mouth. Will swallowed reluctantly, not wanting to choke. He wasn’t fooled; he already knew Hannibal’s secrets. If anything, he was hurt that Hannibal continued to lie to him about that detail.

“I know,” Will said when Hannibal pulled the spoon out of his mouth to gather more soup onto it.

“Do you?” Hannibal asked. Force-feeding Will again before he could answer. He smiled in satisfaction as his captive drank down the broth boiled with the bones of his own kill.

“Was it her?” Will asked as soon as his mouth was free again.

Hannibal’s eyes lit up. “You can tell,” he mused. “I thought it only fair to feed you your own work,”

Will fought the urge to gag. He never wanted to kill, let alone eat a person. But he soon realized that this wasn’t the first time he had been served human meat. He curled over and retched, but nothing came up.

“You’ll get used to it,” Hannibal explained, rubbing his victim’s back soothingly.

“Did you feed it to her, too?” Will asked raggedly, flinching away from Hannibal’s touch.

“No,” Hannibal scoffed. “I don’t cook for the cattle I slaughter,”

A confusing wave of relief washed over Will upon hearing that statement. He wasn’t going to be slaughtered. He wasn’t just another victim. He meant something. He was more valuable than the rest. He looked up at Hannibal, “You don’t—you’re not—“

“No, Darling, of course I’m not going to eat you,” he stroked Will’s hair lovingly, cupping the side of his face in his palm. “Not unless you don’t behave,” he added with a twist of evil in his voice. He let Will go and continued to spoon feed him. Will swallowed every drop, shutting off his thoughts about the source of the hearty broth and letting his survival instincts take over. If he were a normal person, he would convince himself that Hannibal was lying about the meat. It would be the thread that kept him from going insane. However, he wasn’t a normal person, and he was already insane.

When all the soup in the thermos was gone, Hannibal unexpectedly pressed his lips against Will’s. Will’s eyes stayed open at first, but as his lips were parted and a warm tongue was pushed into his mouth, he closed his eyes and slowly kissed Hannibal back. It was what he’d wanted all along. If only it were under different circumstances…

When Hannibal pulled back, Will found the confidence to negotiate. “Bring me up with you,” he pleaded, still breathless from the kiss.

Hannibal clicked his tongue. “I’m afraid I can’t do that yet,” he said shortly. Before standing up, he set a bottle of water down on the floor beside Will and pushed a small bottle of pills into his hand. “These are for the pain.” he explained, walking away coldly.

A week later, Hannibal decided it was time to upgrade his prisoner to a proper bedroom. He was special after all. His legs were healing, albeit slowly, and his pain was curbed with the help of the medication he’d gotten him. The pills also worked as strong sedatives, keeping Will drowsy and compliant most of the time. He no longer needed to be spoon fed, and he didn’t question the source of his food anymore either. He learned quickly. Although Hannibal knew the questions would be asked later, once he’d earned some more freedom.

The questions did come, sooner than Hannibal had expected. He made it a point to spend as much time as he could in the basement with his captive. He needed Will to become comfortable in his presence, to the point where he only felt safe when he was around. Hannibal knew the perfect recipe for Stockholm’s Syndrome, tweaking it slightly for the stubborn profiler.

One evening, Hannibal was doing his regular exercise routine while Will ate his dinner. He was doing pushups, the best for maintaining the upper body strength he needed to carry dead weight around every day. His romantic interest watched him keenly, but usually kept quiet. This time, he interrupted with a stupid question.

“Who was she?” he asked.

Hannibal stopped his activity, closing his eyes and sighing heavily. He’d really hoped Will wouldn’t break his streak of good behavior so recklessly. He sat back and eyed his chained beauty, unable to remain annoyed at the dreamy blue eyes that blinked up at him from underneath a curtain of messy brown curls.

“She was the daughter of a rich CEO,” he answered. “She was boring, entitled, and very, _very_ rude,” he sighed.

Will only nodded. Hannibal sat in front of him and carefully stroked his messy hair, distracting him with a pining gaze while he reached into his pocket. He trailed his hand down to Will’s shoulder before clamping down against his clavicle and shoving him backwards against the wall. Will gasped as his back hit the cold concrete. When he opened his eyes, Hannibal was waving a pocket knife in front of his face. His eyes followed the blade as it was pressed against his skin just under his shoulder where Hannibal held him down.

Will whimpered as the blade cut into his skin like butter, streaking bright red across his chest. Hannibal pulled the knife back and licked it carefully, closing his eyes to savor the coppery liquid. “That’s for asking stupid questions,” he explained, wiping the blood leaking from the fresh cut and licking it off of his thumb.

“Now, I should probably clean you up. It’s been long enough,” he eyed the filthy man. It had been necessary to keep him down here, but it pained him to see how neglect shadowed Will’s fine features.

Hannibal carried Will out of the basement, arms hooked under his knees and frail body held close to his chest like a damsel in distress. Will rested his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, choosing not to bring himself any more unnecessary pain by arguing. He was just glad to be leaving the Hell that was the basement.

Hannibal set Will on the edge of the tub as he drew a bath, feeling the water with the back of his hand until it was a comfortable temperature before helping Will undress and lowering him into the water. He laid him down with his bandaged legs hanging out of the water, then began working shampoo into his matted hair. Will remained still, terrified, but appreciating the gentle hands that rubbed soap over his body. The fresh cut under his collarbone stung as warm, soapy water rinsed over it, but he didn’t so much as flinch.

“Look up, Darling,” Hannibal ordered, lifting Will’s chin up to rest the back of his head over the ceramic tub. Will’s eyes widened with fear as Hannibal held up a sharpened razor blade. “Sssh, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” he stroked Will’s cheek with his damp hand. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you’d look with a smooth face?” he asked, as he ran the blade along Will’s jawline. Will didn’t say anything, staring up at the vent on the ceiling as the murderer he’d been trying to catch for months ran the sharp edge of a razor blade over his face and neck. “You already took your punishment for today,” Hannibal explained, rinsing the blade in the sink and peeking over his shoulder to admire his work. Will looked at least ten years younger without any facial hair.

Will looked down at the cut on his chest, blood flowing into the bathwater and tinting it red. “Sit up and I’ll bandage it for you,” Hannibal said, taking a first aid kit out of his medicine cabinet and kneeling beside Will again. Will sat up slowly, letting Hannibal dry his chest with the corner of a hand towel. He applied a thick ointment to the cut, which stung for a second, but then reduced his pain to tingling numbness. He sucked in a sharp breath and glanced up at Hannibal questioningly. “It’s Lidocaine, Sweetheart,” Hannibal smiled, kissing his forehead softly. He pressed a square of gauze over the bleeding wound, applying just the right amount of pressure. He admired Will’s clean face and naked body as if he were a work of art posed in a museum. Will looked away, blushing, as he felt Hannibal’s eyes survey every inch of his bare skin. With a soft chuckle, Hannibal taped the gauze bandage to Will’s chest and stood up.

“I’ll go get you some clean clothes,” Hannibal left the bathroom, closing the door with the click of a lock. Will sighed in relief once his captor was out of sight. He stared around the bathroom, looking for something—anything—that could help him. It was a useless idea, because even if he grabbed hold of the sharpened razor blade resting beside the sink, it wasn’t like he could get away with using it. Hannibal knew there was nothing he could do—nothing he _would_ do—or else he wouldn’t have left him alone. Will wasn’t Hannibal’s usual victim; he wasn’t clueless and impulsive, he knew exactly what Hannibal’s plays were, knew exactly what he was thinking. It was much more terrifying than being ignorant, because Will knew that he had absolutely no way out.

He nearly jumped out of the water as the door swung open again. Hannibal stepped over the sea blue tile with a devious grin, carrying neatly folded fabric against his chest. “Come on out, let’s dry you off and get you dressed,” he said, setting the clothes on the counter and reaching down to help Will out of the bath. He whimpered as his legs hit the edge of the tub before he was lowered onto the ledge. “Sorry, Love,” Hannibal whispered, leaning down to drain the tub of the bloody water. He wrapped a plush towel over Will’s shoulders and rubbed it over his skin gingerly. He was so careful it was ironic. He treated Will like a household pet, not like a pig being groomed for slaughter. The only salvation it brought Will was the knowledge that he wasn’t destined to become dinner any time soon.

“Lift your arms up,” Hannibal ordered, grabbing the folded laundry off of the counter. He slipped a form-fitting turtleneck over Will’s arms. It had green and pink stripes and just barely covered his stomach. He looked up at Hannibal questioningly, but Hannibal didn’t meet his eyes. “Legs,” he said, carefully wrapping his arms around Will’s back as he tilted his feet off the floor. Silky black fabric moved up his skin, an elastic waistband hugging his waist snugly. Will spread his thighs apart, realizing that he wasn’t wearing something with legs. He looked down to see instead the hem of a skirt grazing the skin just above his knees.

Hannibal stood back and admired his new plaything. He was more beautiful than he ever could have imagined. He tilted his head to the side, heat rushing between his legs as the thin man before him squirmed to pull the skirt over his knees and the shirt over his stomach. His clean-shaven cheeks flushed bright pink as he looked up to question Hannibal’s clothing choice.

“It fits you well,” he purred, moving his hand up Will’s pale thigh. Muscles tightened beneath his touch, but he moved farther up the skirt until he traced the hem of Will’s underwear. He’d replaced the roomy boxer shorts with something tighter and shorter.

A hand hovered over his underneath the skirt and earthen eyes looked up to meet ocean blue ones. “Can I stay up here with you?” a quiet voice asked, eyelashes fluttering like a coquette doll. Hannibal wasn’t above taking bribes. He spread the man’s legs apart and settled himself in between them, hands resting on trembling knees and lips hovering over lips.

“Maybe,” he whispered.

“Please…” Will breathed. Hannibal closed the distance between them and kissed his lips, urging him on. “I’ll do anything,” Will begged when he pulled back. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s shoulders, pulling him closer. He pressed his face into the nape of the older man’s neck. His jacket was soft and heavily scented with expensive cologne. The same cologne he always smelled on him, in his car, in his office, and only days ago on his pillow. He closed his eyes and convinced himself he still wanted him. “Just don’t make me go back into the basement,” he choked. “It’s dark and cold and smells like death. _Please_ , don’t make me go back down there,” he pulled back and bit his lip, eyes clouding with tears as he looked over the serial killer for a sign of breaking. Hannibal’s face didn’t so much as twitch, his expression as vacant as a marble statue. But his eyes flashed with desire. It was so quick, Will nearly missed it. But once he saw it, he let out a shaky breath and flung himself back into the man’s arms, relieved that his flirtations were working.

“If you’re good,” Hannibal said, wrapping his arms around Will’s back to pull him off of the edge of the bathtub and into his lap. Will gasped as he felt a growing hardness press against his thigh through the thin fabric. His parted lips were immediately covered by Hannibal’s lips. He held his face in his hands as he kissed him passionately, as if he were afraid of breaking him. Will closed his eyes and kissed Hannibal back, wrapping his arms around his neck to pull himself up and meet the soft lips that sucked him in.

Hannibal was the first to break the kiss, pulling back and smirking at the loss and confusion on Will’s face as he left him wanting more. “Has anyone ever loved you like this?” he asked, stroking his thumb over Will’s now smooth face. “Clearly not, or else you wouldn’t be here,”

He lifted Will off of his lap and stood up. Will stared down at the floor, knowing that Hannibal’s words were meant to hurt him. That’s how sick people like him made their victims compliant. They made them believe everything they did was for their own good, made them believe they really loved them, gave them no choice but to love them back or die. But Will had already loved Hannibal before he became his victim, and Hannibal had shared the sentiment long before Will had even realized his own feelings. He wouldn’t hurt him unless he felt rejected, and not just the false threats that Will spat in self defense.

“Come, it’s almost dinner time,” Hannibal lifted Will back into his arms, but this time Will didn’t cuddle into his shoulder.

He set Will down at his dinner table and turned to begin cooking. He pulled bags of frozen meat out of his freezer, and Will looked away, wondering who’s meat it was, and how soon it would be his own. Hannibal stared over at the wilting man at his table, an idea budding in his mind. “Wait here,” he ordered, setting his knife down. Will stared at the knife on the counter and imagined launching himself across the kitchen to take it. All that would happen was he would have the weapon ripped out of his hands and he would be chained back in the basement. He stared back down at the table in defeat.

Hannibal came back into the room carrying with him a wheeled office chair. He set it in front of the kitchen counter and then lifted Will back into his arms to place him in the new chair. “There,” he breathed, smiling down at Will as Will stared up at him in confusion. He pulled a second knife out of the knife rack and pushed a cutting board with some leafy herb on it towards Will’s side of the counter. He held the knife in front of Will’s face, standing behind him. “If you’re going to stay up here, you have to help me with the cooking and cleaning. I can’t just clothe you, feed you, and house you for free,” he explained.

Will reached up to take the knife into his own hand, but Hannibal pulled his head back by his hair and pressed the knife against his neck. Will stopped breathing. “Now, before I let you have this I should set some ground rules,” Hannibal said, his voice dropping as he leaned down beside Will’s ear. “You’re not allowed out of this kitchen when you’re up here. You don’t go past the doorframe,” he nodded towards the doorway that led out of the dining room and into the main hallway. “You don’t go upstairs without me, either. Am I understood?” Hannibal’s breath was hot against Will’s clammy skin.

He swallowed, his throat dry as the knife threatened to cut his jugular. “Yes,” he whispered, his hands and shoulders starting to shake. He fisted the hem of his skirt in an attempt to hide the uncontrollable trembling of his fingers.

“Good boy,” Hannibal purred, easing the pressure against Will’s neck ever so slightly. “Because if you do cross the line,” he dragged the edge of the blade up to Will’s chin, making him draw in a sharp breath and go completely still. “I’ll cut you up. Right here, under your chin. Don’t worry, you won’t be able to see it in the mirror unless you lift your head. But you’ll always know it’s there,” he growled.

He pulled the knife away from Will’s neck and released his grip on his hair, letting his head fall back into place between his shoulders. He handed Will the knife and smiled innocently, patting his shoulder. “You can start by helping me cut the vegetables for dinner,”

Will nodded, his voice nowhere to be found. He steadied his hands and began chopping whatever Hannibal placed on his cutting board, nodding obediently whenever he gave specific directions like a 1950’s housewife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Follow me on Twitter!!!](https://twitter.com/T0xicShipper)


	3. Cunning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will comes up with an escape plan that involves potentially killing his captor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Please, doll, don't make a scene  
> I've got you where I need  
> Right when you start to plead  
> I shut the lock, throw away the key  
> God, I feel so sorry for you  
> Your looks are all you've got  
> Attention starved for what you're not"  
> -Cunning, Not Convincing, Get Scared

Every evening around the same time, Will heard footsteps above him and Hannibal would come down to drag him out of the basement. He would do the chores on his hands and knees like Cinderella, then he would be placed in the office chair at the counter to assist with the cooking. They always ate in silence, barely even looking up at each other. The atmosphere was tense, but Hannibal never did anything. However, Will knew he wanted to. He would watch Will’s every move carefully, like he was waiting for him to make a mistake. He wanted him to mess up so he could punish him.

Some evenings Hannibal would disappear down to the basement by himself while Will worked in the kitchen. He stared longingly down the hall at the front door. All he had to do was crawl over, barely even ten feet, and push the door open. Surely, someone would see him. He could be free in less than five minutes. But he never left his chair, never crossed the threshold. He didn’t know why he never tried. Was it fear that Hannibal would hear him moving down the hall? Was it the possibility that he would be caught and punished in some unthinkable way? Or was it because he didn’t want to leave?

Eventually, he stopped imagining his escape. He accepted that he just couldn’t do it that way. But he didn’t completely abandon the idea of escaping.

Days passed, weeks passed, months may have passed. Will had no concept of time anymore. He didn’t know if it was winter or summer, day or night. It didn’t matter to him. What mattered was getting out of the basement, what mattered was pleasing Hannibal, what mattered was not making any mistakes.

“I’m tired of your expression. Why don’t you smile more?” Hannibal snapped one night. Will forced himself to smile. “Amazing. You actually do as you’re told,” was Hannibal’s response.

His mood was never the same two days in a row. Some nights he was all smiles, kissing Will’s head or stroking his hair whenever he walked by. Other nights he was quiet, short tempered, glaring at Will scrutinizingly as he handled his fine china and high end cooking utensils. Will could determine that his moods were correlated with his hunts. After a hunt, he would return home late at night with a fresh body to butcher and pack in the freezer. Sometimes he would tell Will about his victims, explaining what they’d done to deserve their fate, or what recipe he planned to use their meat in. Sometimes he would sigh, expressing how much he missed leaving artistic displays for Will to find.

Hannibal needed to kill like a smoker needed nicotine. After a few days without slicing someone’s throat and ripping out their organs, he would become increasingly short tempered, more likely to take his violence out on Will. “You know since you ‘disappeared’ they all think you were the Ripper,” he said one night. Will stopped dicing carrots and tilted his head up to the stony man pan frying some poor girl’s liver.

“I stopped performing for them so they think the previous murders were linked to you,” he explained. “It’s quite ironic. But in a way they’re right. They were _for_ you. But now you’re here with me so they don’t have to be out there,”

“You’re still killing people, though,” Will whispered. His heart sank at the reminder of his previous life, and how quickly his ‘friends’ had turned on him. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course they didn’t care enough to look for him, they wanted to place the blame on someone, and he was the most obvious scapegoat. Not the actual killer, who simply altered his technique and threw the FBI’s scent off of his path by kidnapping their best profiler and framing him.

“Nobody important,” Hannibal stated. “Not since the CEO’s daughter. She’s still all over the news, of course, because her daddy is rich,”

Will began slicing vegetables again, pushing the murders out of his mind. Hannibal stopped cooking and surveyed his captive quietly. “You’re crying,” he said icily.

“No,” Will lied as tears dripped onto his cheeks.

Hannibal sighed and took the knife out of his hand. “You’ll hurt yourself if you don’t pay attention,”

“Why are you upset?” he asked, kneeling on the floor beside Will’s chair.

“Nobody looked for me?” he choked, staring down at the wet spots that landed on the shiny black fabric that barely covered his legs.

“They looked. But they did a pretty half-assed job if you ask me,” Hannibal took Will’s hands in his own. Will broke and started sobbing. Hannibal stared at him uselessly for a few seconds, internally beaming at his broken lover. He would break him down and build him back up again even stronger. He would be shaped into the most gorgeous killer anyone had ever seen. But first, he needed to foster Will’s unconditional loyalty to him.

“Don’t cry over them,” Hannibal said softly, wiping Will’s tears with his sleeve. “You have me,”

Will clamped his hand over his mouth to muffle a scream. Hannibal sighed and rolled his eyes so Will couldn’t see. He faked sympathy, rubbing Will’s wracked shoulders and cooing softly into his ear, “You’re safe here…No one will ever love you as much as I do…I’m so glad you came to me…”

Will knew his words were poison, but it was all he wanted to hear. _You’re wanted, you’re loved, I won’t let anyone else hurt you, you belong to me, you’re_ mine.

Hannibal lifted Will’s damp face to meet his. He smiled at the blue-eyed, curly haired boy with honest endearment. Will searched his face, trying to decipher what he saw in him. He was the only person with the capacity to understand him, but there was something more.

“You remind me of her,” Hannibal admitted in a melancholy tone. “My sister,” He pushed a lock of Will’s hair behind his ear. “She was so beautiful, just like you. Dark hair, bright eyes, clever…”

“What—what happened to her?” Will asked hesitantly, his voice still heavy from crying.

Hannibal wasn’t angry with this question. He rubbed circles into the back of Will’s hand with his thumb. “Something unspeakable,” he answered, his tone darkening.

Will squeezed Hannibal’s hand. “You couldn’t save her, so you’re trying to save me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, more like a diagnosis.

Hannibal grinned crookedly. “I suppose,” he said.

“That’s why you won’t kill me,” Will fit the missing pieces together out loud. Hannibal could only be impressed with his quick wit. It’s what made him fall in love in the first place. Will was the only person with the potential to fully understand—and accept—what Hannibal was.

“I won’t kill you as long as you don’t reject me,” Hannibal said, forcing Will to meet his fiery eyes by tilting his chin up.

Ice ticked Will’s spine, but he nodded his agreement. How could he reject the only person who didn’t reject him?

“I love you,” Hannibal said, leaning in to kiss Will. Will reached up to cradle Hannibal’s face.

“I love you, too,” he whispered against Hannibal’s lips, although he was still unsure of the truth. For now, he decided to convince himself he was only playing along with Hannibal’s games in order to survive.

Will knew what he had to do. If he couldn’t leave, and he couldn’t kill Hannibal, he had to come up with a better plan. In the days that followed he molded himself into the perfect pet. He even forced himself to smile whenever Hannibal took him upstairs and whenever Hannibal asked him to do something. He earned Hannibal’s trust slowly but surely.

Every time he held a knife he still imagined stabbing it into Hannibal’s eye, or slitting his throat with one quick sweep across his neck. He knew he would never try it, though. Hannibal was too careful, always positioning himself with Will in his direct line of sight. His predator reflexes were far too skilled; he could snap into action and turn the knife against Will in a fraction of a second.

When Hannibal wasn’t in the room watching Will from the corner of his eye, Will would gaze down the hallway at the front door. He imagined every step, or crawl, he would have to make before reaching the door. He could practically feel the cold metal door handle against his palm, hear the sound of cars driving by on the street, and feel the chill evening air on his face. But he would always snap back to reality, where he sat in an old office chair at a marble kitchen counter washing dishes.

He always heard shuffling, thumping, and power tools whirring downstairs in the basement. But every night when he was chained back to the pipe there wasn’t a single trace of what Hannibal had been doing. There was never any blood leftover, not on the floors, the walls, the ceiling, and definitely not on Hannibal’s clothes. Will noticed that Hannibal wore a full body plastic suit over his clothes whenever he descended into the basement. When he returned, sometimes the plastic was splattered with blood, but all Will saw was a flash of red as Hannibal walked past the kitchen on his way down the hall. Other than that, there wasn’t a trace of evidence of the murders.

One weekend, Hannibal seemed extra keen on cleaning the whole house. Judging by the soft sunlight coming in through the windows and the mild temperatures, Will guessed that it was already early spring.

He was on his hands and knees scrubbing the wooden floors with sponges and rags since he couldn’t stand and use a mop. Hannibal was across the hall digging through a linen closet and dusting shelves. He sighed and muttered something under his breath before he paced back into the kitchen to grab a plastic trash bag from under the sink.

“Follow,” he ordered, flicking his fingers towards the closet across the hall as he walked past Will. Will immediately dropped the sponge in the bucket of soapy water and crawled across the hall to sit next to Hannibal in front of the closet.

“Go through these boxes and throw away anything that’s empty or broken,” he explained curtly, handing Will the trash bag. Will nodded and smiled sweetly, and Hannibal patted his head before disappearing into the basement. But as soon as he was gone, Will stopped smiling.

Most of the boxes contained nothing but dust bunnies and empty bottles. Surprisingly, condoms and emergency contraception were two of the contents. The thought of why and more specifically _who_ Hannibal needed them for made Will want to vomit. He tossed the empty boxes into the trash bag with a dash of jealousy that he didn’t dare admit to himself.

He stretched to reach the second shelf, but his fingers pushed the cardboard box to the edge until it fell to the floor. Will flinched, sure that Hannibal had heard the fall from the basement, but as seconds ticked by and he didn’t appear, he relaxed enough to kneel back down and gather the spilled contents of the box. Nearly everything was trash, except one pill bottle that rattled over the floor. He reached out to grab it and stick it in the trash bag, but he paused at the familiar blue and yellow packaging. _Rat poison_. Will had his plan.

It took several more days, but Will finally found his opening. He stashed the bottle under the sink, hidden behind other staple cleaning products. Hannibal was making a Korean soup dish— _Yukgaejang—_ with rice noodles and thin cuts of meat that would traditionally be beef brisket. Hannibal left the room to answer an unexpected phone call, announcing that he would only be a minute. As soon as he disappeared into another room, Will dug into the cabinet and dumped the contents of the bottle into the thick, boiling liquid on the stove. He frantically whisked the metal spoon around the pot, hoping that the little blue tablets dissolved. This was his only chance. 

As soon as he heard footsteps coming down the hall, he pushed himself back across the floor and pretended to be busy chopping away at green onions. “Sorry, baby,” Hannibal said in a sickeningly sweet voice, one that should have raised a red flag.

“This smells wonderful,” he prided himself. “A traditional royal court dish from the Joseon Dynasty. One of five courses served during seasonal royal banquets. They were famous for constructing a spring-fed channel just to serve floating wine glasses to guests,”

Sweat beaded on Will’s forehead and his heart pounded in his ears as he watched Hannibal set the table. He gave no clear indication that he was aware, or even suspected, the food might be poisoned. Will forced himself to keep smiling agreeably as Hannibal poured two bowls of the stew and two glasses of wine. Time moved too slow; the buildup of anxiety fueled by the heavy ticking of the grandfather clock behind Hannibal’s chair was suffocating.

Hannibal finally sat down and brought a spoonful of the bright red liquid up to his lips, blowing on it gently. It was so close, only centimeters away, when his hand froze in place. He lowered his spoon and set it back down on his napkin carefully.

Will’s stomach dropped. “What—“

“You try it first,” Hannibal grinned playfully. He knew. That was it. He knew. Will couldn’t move, he just stared ahead into the maroon eyes that interrogated him silently. “You’ve been smiling too much lately. I can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t anymore,” Hannibal sighed, pain flickering across his marble features. “So, I want you to try it first, and then we can both smile.” He motioned for Will to start eating as he leaned back in his chair expectantly.

Will had two options: eat the soup and poison himself, or admit what he’d done and have his throat sliced up like an Easter ham. There was no better or worse option, so he went with the former. He picked up his spoon and brought the oriental broth to his lips, swallowing it as if it were made of razor blades. Hannibal nodded in amusement, but instead of eating his own dish, he stood up from the table and pushed his chair in. Will’s heart sank even further. He had just poisoned himself without even taking Hannibal down with him. This was his only chance and he’d fucked it up royally.

“Clean up the dishes, dump the soup down the drain,” Hannibal ordered somberly. “It doesn’t smell right,” he added with a knowing look. And with that he went back to work in the basement.

Will hunched over the sink and shoved his fingers as far back into his throat as he could. He gagged and coughed up the minimal contents of his stomach, bile burning his throat on the way up. It hadn’t been more than ten minutes since Hannibal had left the room. Surely, the minuscule sip of poison-laced stew hadn’t had the chance to do any irreversible damage. Or so he hoped.

The clock’s ticking grew louder and louder until he could hear it vibrating in his chest. The ticking turned into a hollow pounding, drowning out the sound of the tap water splashing over metal pots and pans in the sink. Was it pounding from the basement, where Hannibal was hacking away at their next dinner victim? Or was it all in Will’s head. It came closer and closer, until he couldn’t ignore it anymore. He turned away from the sink, white spots dancing across his vision whenever he moved. He could feel cold sweat trickle down his temples and dampen the back of his neck.

_Bathroom._ He pushed himself across the floor, white knuckling the edge of the counter as he wheeled his chair out of the kitchen. Every movement left him dizzy. He gasped for air in the hopes that he could replenish the blood that was quickly draining from his skin. He glanced down and saw that the floor was rising up to meet him. When he looked up again, the doorframe was tilted a full 180 degrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Follow me on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/T0xicShipper)


	4. Backwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Then I realize I'm just holding on to the hope that maybe  
> Your feelings don't show"  
> -Tame Impala

Hannibal came up from the basement after nearly an hour of slicing corpses into fine cuts of meat. He had been angry, and the only way to quell that anger without taking it out on Will, the closest warm body, was to cut up some cold ones. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying, but it would have to do. While he ran bone through an electric saw he pondered how he would punish Will for trying to poison him. Would he cut his throat like he’d threatened, or do something more psychological?

As he stripped his plastic suit off, he noted that he could still hear running water in the kitchen. He was sure Will would be finished with the dishes by now. Curious, he stepped into the kitchen to check on his captive’s progress. The water was still running, and barely any dishes had been cleaned, but what was more interesting was the overturned office chair and the frail body sprawled out on the floor next to the table.

Hannibal sighed. More proof that Will had, in fact, attempted to poison him. As if the rancid smell of rat poison wafting out of the boiling stew hadn’t been obvious enough. A part of him had still hoped the man who said he loved him hadn’t actually wanted to kill him. But now he was the fool, forced to sample his own medicine.

He knelt beside the unconscious man and pressed two fingers against the pale skin of his neck. There was a pulse, albeit faint. Relieved, he hoisted the limp body into his arms. Will smelled of anticoagulant and vomit. He had ingested enough to suffer the consequences, but not enough to have a deadly reaction. Maybe this would be punishment enough. He would learn that whatever he tried to do to Hannibal would come back to him, because they were one now.

Hannibal started towards the basement, but a hollow feeling of disappointment held him back. “Why is it I’m so good to you?” he muttered, looking down at his beautiful Will. Even pale as a sheet and clammy he looked like a Renaissance painting. He was tired of leaving him in the basement where he couldn’t see him during the night. He’d hoped by now he would get to enjoy the warmth of another body in his bed.

He turned around and instead carried his lover up the stairs and into his own bedroom. He laid him down on the bed and covered him in high thread count sheets. He tucked a stray curl behind his ear and kissed his cold forehead before sliding under the covers beside him. He wrapped his arms around Will’s waist and watched his chest rise and fall slowly from the pillow beside him.

Will woke up to a throbbing headache and dry mouth. For a second he thought he was back home, in his bed, but then he remembered…He shot up, fighting the pull of arms that held him against the mattress. He wasn’t home, but he wasn’t in the basement either. He blinked at the soft bedsheets that covered his body, then turned his attention to the half-lidded ruby eyes that watched him. His shoulders shook despite the warmth of the bed.

“Good morning,” Hannibal smirked, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Why am I—are we—“ Will started.

“You made yourself sick,” Hannibal reached up and pushed Will’s hair off of his forehead just to watch it bounce back into place. “Remember?”

Will remembered. Shame knotted his stomach, and his chest felt hollow. He’d ruined his best chance of escape, but what bothered him more was that Hannibal was taking such good care of him even though he’d just tried to _kill_ him. He looked down at the bed and folded his hands in his lap.

“Of course you do,” Hannibal pushed the blankets back and swung out of the bed. He stood next to Will’s side of the bed and handed him a bucket. “Use this if you have to throw up,” he said. “I’ll get you some water and Aspirin,” he turned to leave the room, but Will reached out and grabbed his wrist. He looked back to him with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m sorry,” Will said quietly, avoiding the older man’s eyes and instead staring at the buttons on his shirt.

“If you’re sorry then why did you do it?” Hannibal asked. His tone wasn’t angry or hurt, just curious. It was impossible to decipher his true feelings.

Will swallowed, his throat clicking. “I-I don’t know,”

“You know,” Hannibal half-smiled and reached down to stroke Will’s hair. “But don’t do it again, or next time I won’t be so forgiving,” he warned, lowering his voice. Will shivered as Hannibal left the room and locked the door behind him. It wasn’t right that he wasn’t angrier about the rat poison. He had to be luring Will into a false sense of security so he could hurt him even more when he wasn’t expecting it. Will bit his lip, wishing he’d eaten more of the poisoned soup and just killed himself. But if Hannibal knew, would he have allowed that?

When Hannibal came back with a glass of water and two round tablets in his palm, Will nearly threw himself onto him. He swallowed the pills, but fought the urge to beg and plead and apologize profusely so he wouldn’t have to endure whatever torture Hannibal was planning for him. But he knew better than to grovel. Hannibal didn’t respect grovelers. Instead, he remained quiet and waited for Hannibal to make the next move.

Hannibal sat back on the bed beside Will, staring at him inquisitively. “You have something to say?” he observed, leaning his shoulder into Will’s. “Just say it,” he whispered, pushing Will back down against the mattress and hovering over him.

“Don’t put me back in the basement,” Will blurted. “Can I sleep up here with you from now on?”

Hannibal hesitated, looking confused, and then he laughed. “Is that what this was about?” he asked. Will looked away but didn’t answer. “Sure,” Hannibal said.

“Really?” He hadn’t actually expected to hear ‘yes’ for an answer.

Hannibal nodded. “There’s not enough room in the basement for you anyway,”

Will smiled and Hannibal leaned down to kiss him unexpectedly. Will pushed him away. “I still smell like vomit,” he protested, turning his head away. Hannibal grabbed his cheeks in his hand and held him still while he continued to kiss him anyway. Will held onto Hannibal’s shoulders as he let himself sink into the kiss. Heat rushed to his cheeks as Hannibal moved down his jaw and kissed his neck hungrily. He whimpered as his delicate skin was sucked and nibbled, surely leaving purple marks that would linger for the next few days.

Hands moved under his shirt and pinched his nipples, drawing sharp gasps out of him as he arched his back into the hands that caressed him. His shirt was lifted up to expose the tender, pink buds and the tongue that had been so focused on his neck moved down his chest. He hissed as one nipple was teased between teeth and the other was rubbed under experienced fingers.

Without realizing it, he lifted his legs and wrapped them around Hannibal’s waist, pulling him in. He didn’t seem to mind, pressing his body against Will’s and running his hands down his chest to his tapered waist.

Rough hands slid up slender thighs, tugging the tight underwear beneath the pleated skirt down to expose the growing heat underneath. Small whimpers and desperate moans were swallowed by wet kisses. Teeth bit lips, hands clenched locks of hair, cold skin pressed against warm. Will cling to Hannibal’s toned chest as he slid his tongue across Will’s bruised neck. Will fumbled with the buttons on Hannibal’s shirt before his wrists were pushed away and pinned down against the bed over his head. The lips that graced his own pulled away just as quickly as they’d taken him. He was left lying on his back staring up into the glowing red eyes of the monster that loomed over him.

The monster gripped chocolate brown curls in his fist, holding Will down as he straddled his legs and unzipped himself. He couldn’t risk getting off the bed and letting Will go to fully undress, and he also couldn’t bear to wait any longer. He was even more grateful for the skirt his last female victim had left in his possession, allowing him quick access to the body beneath him. His knees grazed the soft skin of Will’s inner thighs, pushing his legs apart.

Blue eyes widened in fear as Will surveyed the sizable member that hovered over him. He instinctively tried to close his legs, but they were immediately pushed back open. He whimpered as the predator leaned back over him, his heart hammering him his chest and tears burning his eyes. “Hannibal…wait—“ he gasped, his legs trembling. Hannibal moaned softly at the heat radiating from between Will’s thighs. He ran his hands across Will’s overheated skin, practically salivating. Losing his patience, he grabbed Will’s hipbone and held him down against the bed, shifting his weight on top of him so he was locked in place. Will squirmed underneath Hannibal, digging his nails into his forearms and kicking his legs. Hannibal kept Will’s legs spread apart with his knees flat against the backs of his thighs. The more Will tried to untangle his legs from Hannibal's, they were only shoved back farther. Hannibal leaned over Will, whispering soft affirmations into his ear. Nearly folding Will in half, he worked a finger into his tight passage.

“Wait—“ Will gasped, pushing against Hannibal’s chest. He may as well have been pushing against a brick wall. Hannibal grabbed his wrist and held it painfully against the bed. Will sobbed as Hannibal forced two more fingers into him, stretching and pulling at his insides to prepare him for the final act. Will cried out from the pain of having three fingers fan out inside of him, realizing that even this wouldn’t come close to the size and length of what he was about to take. “I—can’t,” he cried. “I can’t…”

Hannibal sighed impatiently. “Stop whining, I thought you wanted this,” he said gruffly, pulling his dry fingers out and making Will yelp sharply. He bit his lip and stared up at Hannibal with tears in his eyes and on his cheeks.

Hannibal sat up cautiously and reached for the bedside table. Will clung to his sleeve anxiously, tugging him back down over top of him. “Wait—“ he started.

“Darling, I’m trying to make this easier for you,” Hannibal cooed, stroking Will’s cheek before reaching into his bedside table drawer. He hesitated before shoving a box of condoms aside and grabbed a bottle of lube right away instead. He twisted the cap off with his thumb and forefinger and let it fall to the floor, bouncing and rolling away audibly. Will held his breath.

“Here,” Hannibal coated two fingers with the thick gel and crammed them back inside Will. He whimpered, but relaxed as he found the passage much easier now that it wasn’t dry. Hannibal’s fingers moved in and out fluidly, pulling at the tight ring of muscle each time before slipping in even deeper. Fingertips found the soft bundle of nerves and stroked it with experienced precision until Will was a moaning, panting mess. He grabbed Hannibal’s wrist and met the maroon eyes that drank in the sight of his flushed body.

“Please…” he whimpered. “Put it in me,”

It was a request Hannibal couldn’t deny. He flipped over and leaned against the headboard, pulling Will into his lap with him. He gripped Will’s waist, fingers catching on his protruding hip bones. He lifted his skirt up to his waist and watched him settle his ass down against the head of his dick. Will moaned loudly as his entrance was breached by something far bigger than he was prepared for, even with lube. Hannibal pulled him down despite his writhing about and harsh gripping of Hannibal’s chest hair. He was stretched so far he feared he might bleed, but even as his muscles clenched uncontrollably, Hannibal bucked his hips and drove himself farther into Will.

Will fell forward onto Hannibal’s chest and clung to Hannibal’s shoulders, hiding his face in his neck. His skirt’s waistband was pushed up to his stomach, giving Hannibal a full view of his bare legs. He purred as he reached behind Will to grip his ass tighter as he pushed himself in all the way to the hilt. Will shivered, rocking back against the painfully pleasant intrusion. He let out strangled gasps and soft moans as Hannibal moved in and out of him slowly, letting his body adjust to his girth and length. His muscles spasmed, clenching and unclenching around Hannibal’s cock as he slowly but surely became more soft and pliant.

Hannibal pulled Will’s hair and lifted his head off of his shoulder. He wanted to see his face while he wrecked him. He was claiming him, tightening the shackles around his mind by manipulating the emotions that led him into his basement in the first place. He could fake smiles and pretend to follow orders to appease his captor all he wanted, but he couldn’t deny the very real feelings he had for Hannibal forever. And he couldn’t hide his body’s responses either.

Hannibal pulled Will’s hips down and moved his own up at the same time, finding a gentle rhythm. He squeezed the soft thighs that straddled his lap, sprinkling purple bruises over his snowy skin. He was well aware that he would have matching bruises on his shoulders and back, but considering they would be well hidden under his shirt during the day he didn’t mind.

He caught Will’s chin in his hand and forced him to look into his eyes. He moaned and mewled around the fingers that found their way in between his lips to press against his warm tongue. Another hand moved from his inner thigh to stroke his weeping cock. Freed from the vice that had been holding him in place, Will started moving up and down on his own. He pushed his hands flat against the headboard to keep himself upright as he ground down against the same spot inside of him that Hannibal had stroked so efficiently with his fingers.

White spots danced across his vision just like before he passed out in the kitchen. He squeezed his eyes shut and continued moving despite his increasing lightheadedness. “Hannibal, _Hannibal_!” he moaned as he slammed himself down in rhythm with the careful strokes against his body. He gasped and then screamed in dizzying pleasure as he came violently into Hannibal’s hand. Before he could even catch his breath, his hips were pushed down and held in place tightly as thick liquid heat filled him. He whimpered, laying back across Hannibal’s chest and pressing his forehead into Hannibal’s shoulder. Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will to embrace him against his broad chest.

“You…came inside me?” Will asked, words slurred together. He nuzzled deeper into the crook of Hannibal’s neck, breathing in the scent off of his sweat-dampened skin.

Hannibal’s hands moved up his back, setting his spine ablaze. He curled his fingers in Will’s curls possessively. “Yes,” he sighed in satisfaction, resting his chin on the top of Will’s head. “Because you’re mine.”


	5. Do I Wanna Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Have you no idea that you're in deep?  
> I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week  
> How many secrets can you keep?  
> 'Cause there's this tune I found  
> That makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat  
> Until I fall asleep, spillin' drinks on my settee"  
> -Do I Wanna Know, Arctic Monkeys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter, but there's a nice cumshot at the end :)

From that night on, Will didn’t have to sleep in the basement anymore. He slept upstairs in one of Hannibal’s guest rooms. Some nights Hannibal would climb under the sheets with Will and cuddle his body close instead of sleeping in his own bed. Sometimes he noticed and sometimes he didn’t, but he would usually wake up in the morning to toned arms wrapped around him like a vice. He would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. When he woke up from a nightmare in the middle of the night or in the grey hours of pre-dawn, he would curl against the warm body behind him to soothe himself back to sleep. Funny, he thought, how the object of his nightmares was also the only one that could comfort him.

Hannibal’s soft chest was like sleeping against an extra pillow. Light stubble scratched his shoulders as morning kisses covered the back of his neck. In the pampered guest room he could almost imagine that they were a normal couple, maybe even married. It was harder to feel threatened by a sleeping lion, when their muscles weren’t coiled to attack, and their teeth and claws were retracted. He knew the predator was still inside, just dormant, but he still savored every second he had in a bed instead of on the concrete floor of Hannibal’s basement-slash-meat locker. 

Their daily routine changed as well. Hannibal would bathe and dress Will every day. He didn’t have to wear the same dead woman’s outfit anymore, but his choices were still limited to whatever Hannibal had salvaged from his victims. He couldn’t help feeling like a prized pig being groomed and pampered only to be sold to a slaughterhouse by the end of summer.

He stayed on high alert, ready for the other shoe to drop at any moment, but for days it never happened. He let himself grow too comfortable, knowing it was wrong but giving into Stockholm’s Syndrome anyway. Would he still try to escape? Was it even worth it? He had no idea how long he’d been held prisoner, definitely several months by now. If his “friends” had really given up on looking for him when Hannibal said they did…maybe it was better for him to stay hidden. By now his identity had pretty much been erased, as if he’d never even existed. He was a stranger even to himself, but then again, when had he ever really been himself?

One evening, he caught himself staring in between the blinds over the window at the wind blowing orange leaves onto the lawn. He’d been spacing out a lot, especially without chores to keep his mind occupied. He was no longer forced to crawl on his hands and knees to scrub the floor, which he was thankful for. He still helped with the cooking and washing the dishes, but it was less of a chore and more of a leisure activity now that he wasn’t constantly anticipating punishment for every little slip up.

If it weren’t for his damaged legs, he would have convinced himself he was here on his own free will. And, of course, the fact that he found himself locked inside the guest bedroom with his ankle shackled to a chain just long enough to allow him to reach the conjoining bathroom on days when Hannibal went to work. He couldn’t even fight his restraint without injuring the barely healed bones underneath. It was a clever manipulation.

“Darling, are you alright?” Hannibal asked, pressing his lips to the top of Will’s head as he leaned his arm around him to fill his wine glass.

“Mm-hmm,” he smiled pleasantly.

“What are you thinking?” a deep voice sang into his ear. Hands squeezed his shoulders endearingly as Hannibal pressed his cheek against Will’s like a cat marking its territory. Will hesitated, not sure if asking the question that had been weighing on his mind for weeks now would break the peaceful atmosphere between them.

His shoulders were released and Hannibal sat in the chair next to him instead. He took his hands into his own and kissed his knuckles tenderly. “You can tell me,” he offered. Red met blue like fire melting ice.

“What are they saying about me?” Will asked dryly.

Hannibal paused, being the one to look away this time. “They think you may have killed yourself,” he finally said.

Will stared down at his lap. “Oh,” he whispered.

“But, obviously, they haven’t found a body.”

_Yet._ The unspoken word hung in the air like smog.

“There was nowhere I could have run to,” Will added solemnly.

Hannibal cupped his hand over Will’s cheek and lifted his head to meet tear-filled eyes. “But you’re safe now,” he smiled and leaned in to kiss Will’s cheek.

Will glanced down at his bandaged legs; the fractures that would leave him with a permanent limp; the shackles that would keep him from running away even when he thought he had a choice.

“You’re safer with me because I want to take care of you.”

It was a twisted version of the infamous line, _“It’s for your own good.”_

Will pulled Hannibal into him and rested his chin on his shoulder to hide the the sheer terror that was surely painted all over his face. Hannibal didn’t need to see to know. He could smell the fear permeating the room. Hannibal pressed his face into Will’s neck and breathed deeply. He could live off the smell of fear.

Before he could get too carried away in his own excitement, he pushed shaking arms away from his body and stood up. “You’ll be happy here, you’ll see,” he said as he went to take their dinner out of the oven.

That night Will woke up to another body in his bed. He turned around slowly in between the arms that held him, taking care not to wake their owner. Inches from his face, he watched Hannibal sleep. _“You’ll be happy here…”_ He wanted to believe he could be. He wished he hadn’t snuck into the basement that night, but just trusted…trusted the delusion that Hannibal wasn’t the Ripper? No. He understood that if he hadn’t found the basement on his own, there was no way he’d still be alive. He snuck in there that night not because he wanted to know, but because he already knew. He surrendered the second he unlocked the front door.

He traced the curve of Hannibal’s cheekbone with his fingertips. The mighty lion slept. He let strays of ashen hair glide over his fingers as he traced down the bridge of Hannibal’s nose down to his lips. He’d spent so many hours searching this man’s face, yet had never studied so deeply. He was beautiful like a Roman god sculpted out of cold marble. He started to lean in closer, but a hand clamped over his own, holding it in between them.

Will gasped, but before he could flinch away his face was snatched forward and his mouth consumed by thin lips. Relieved that it wasn’t a harsh blow to the face, he sighed and reciprocated the kiss willingly. Hannibal’s body moved in closer this time, pressing his chest against Will’s and pushing his knee in between Will’s thighs.

“Going for me while I was sleeping?” he asked playfully. Will smiled sheepishly and Hannibal chuckled, pushing him onto his back and climbing over him. “I’ll forgive it,” he said smoothly, leaning back down to place sloppy, wet kisses under Will’s jawline. Will whimpered, clutching Hannibal’s hair as the soft tongue against his skin made his body stir. Hannibal lifted Will’s shirt up and moved down to give his nipples the same attention.

Will mewled, covering his mouth with the back of his hand to keep himself from moaning instead. “Don’t hide from me,” Hannibal moved Will’s hand away and pinned his wrists to the bed. He kept licking Will’s chest and sucking on his oversensitive nipples until he finally gave in and started moaning in need.

“Oh, fuck… _please_ …” he groaned, his voice hitching and rising into a pained whimper.

“Don’t be so impatient,” Hannibal snaked his hand down in between Will’s legs and palmed his neglected erection through his underwear, taking a nipple in between his teeth. Will gasped, arching into Hannibal’s hands.

Hannibal trailed kisses down Will’s chest and belly and then yanked his underwear down his thighs. He spread Will’s legs as far as they could go against the limiting elastic and dove down to press his tongue against Will’s heat. He traced the rim of tight muscle and kneaded the tender flesh of his inner thigh. He tasted sweet and enticing, the flavors of his essence much stronger than his scent alone. He kissed up his length and slipped his mouth over the tip, making Will shudder.

“Darling, I want to taste you,” he cooed, lifting Will’s hips off of the bed and spitting into his hole for quick lubricant. He shoved his fingers into the burning hot passage as he engulfed Will’s entire length in his mouth. With his other hand, he pushed Will’s hips against the bed to keep him still. Will whimpered and moaned as he was pleasured with a mouth over his dick and long fingers searching for his prostate. Hannibal hooked his fingers and pressed right into the bundle of nerves, making Will strain against his hold and scream. He made high-pitched, desperate noises and gripped the bedsheets feverishly as experienced fingers stroked his prostate.

“I’m— _ah—_ mmm—I’m—“ he screamed and shut his eyes tightly as he came down Hannibal’s throat. Hannibal swallowed around the head of Will’s dick, the muscles in the back of his throat working the last of the sweet fluid out.

“It’s even better than I thought,” Hannibal mused. He pulled his fingers out of the sodden passage and slipped them in between his lips to sample the indulgent taste.

“I-I can…” Will took Hannibal’s hand to catch his attention.

“You want to taste it?” Hannibal asked. He sat up and turned around to lean against the headboard. Will flipped onto his hands and knees and settled in between Hannibal’s legs. Hannibal pulled himself out of his underwear and held his fully erect length out for Will to try. He took it in his hand uncertainly. The last time they had sex he hadn’t seen it up close. He had no idea how he managed to take it all inside of him. Just the thought of it made his stomach flutter.

He lowered his mouth onto it, shoving it back as far as he could without gagging. He bobbed his head up and down and sucked on the head, but before he could repeat those two motions for very long, Hannibal pushed his head away from his lap. “What are you doing?” he sighed. Before Will could answer, he continued. “You don’t just put it in your mouth like that, you need to use your tongue. Like this,” he picked Wills hand up and took his index and middle fingers into his mouth to demonstrate. He pushed them back and pulled them back out slowly, running his tongue over and in between them. Will could only stare in awe. “Now try again,” Hannibal ordered, letting him go.

Will took Hannibal back into his mouth, following his instruction and flicking his tongue in circles underneath the thick member. He used his hand to stroke the base where he couldn’t physically fit any more into his mouth. He pressed what he could into his check and focused onmoving his tongue around and moving his head up and down at the same time. “Mmmm,” he moaned as Hannibal grabbed a handful of his hair and pushed his head down even farther. His throat bruised and he gagged involuntarily, but he didn’t stop. The sound of Will’s choking and the vibrations of his moans around the head of his dick eventually drove Hannibal over the edge. He pulled Will’s head back and groaned as he came, streaking the beautiful face in front of him with thick white pools of semen.

Hannibal breathed out a short laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to come on your face,” he whisked some of the sticky fluid off of Will’s cheek with his thumb and then pushed it in between Will’s lips. “You’re just so pretty,” he smiled, admiring the way his seed glistened over Will’s fine features. It was everywhere, splashed from his eyebrow to his cheeks and dripping off of his chin, even caught in the lush chocolate curls that framed his face. He stared long enough to capture a detailed mental image that he would remember forever.


	6. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will tries to escape.

Days passed and Will grew more and more comfortable with his new arrangement. He no longer flinched whenever Hannibal moved towards him or faked any sentiments. Hannibal even wrapped his legs in higher quality compression bandages to speed up their healing. He still never apologized for breaking them in the first place, though.

Not worrying about the dishes or the floor, Will napped at the dining room table one slow Saturday afternoon. He was used to sleeping throughout the day while he was chained in his room, waking up when Hannibal returned in the evening to cook dinner for them. The fear that kept him awake at all hours in the basement no longer plagued him. He had a schedule now. Hannibal always came to check on him around 3:30 in the afternoon, then he’d leave again and return around 7:30 when they’d make and eat dinner together. Before bed he would spend several hours slaving away in the basement while Will did the dishes and got himself ready for bed.

On weekends, Hannibal stayed home most of the day, devoting his attention to Will. This particular Saturday, however, he was too busy with his work in the basement to spend as much time upstairs. Will dozed to the sound of the ticking grandfather clock in the hallway. He was awake enough to hear footsteps approaching him, but not awake enough to lift his head or open his eyes yet.

“Will?” Hannibal touched Will’s shoulder gently. “You’re asleep?” he knelt down to look up at the hooded blue eyes that blinked down at him. He had sensed Will wasn’t actually asleep the whole time. _Cunning boy_ , he thought endearingly. As long as Will didn’t try to run away or lash back, his minor acts of rebellion were charming.

“I need to go somewhere for awhile. Can you go back to your room?” he asked sweetly. Will’s face immediately fell. “I’m sorry…” Hannibal reached up and stroked Will’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Alright, fine,” he sighed. “You can stay down here, then. But remember,” he stood up and leaned over Will, gripping his shoulders and pressing his lips to his ear, “Don’t cross the line,” he whispered.

Will shivered, but nodded, not thinking much of the request. He’d had plenty of chances to cross the line while Hannibal left him alone to work in the basement. But he never took any of them, too afraid of inciting his attention by clamoring across the floor. “Good boy. I’ll be home by 7.” Hannibal kissed the top of Will’s head before turning to leave him in the dining room. “Go back to sleep,” he insisted.

Once the front door clicked shut down the hall, Will’s eyes snapped open. This time, Hannibal was actually gone. He wasn’t in the basement where he could potentially hear Will’s chair scooting across the floor above him; he wasn’t one room away, ready to run after Will and snatch him up the second he got out the door; and Will wasn’t shackled in his bedroom either. The realization slowly dawned on him that he could _leave_. He’d done it, he’d managed to make Hannibal trust him enough to leave him alone in the house with no restraints. Hannibal _believed_ Will wouldn’t leave the house, that he would be loyal to him and choose to remain enslaved.

Will lifted his head and stared at the clock on the wall on the other side of the room. It was barely a few minutes past five o’clock. He had two hours. He could do this in two hours. He looked down at the black skirt that barely covered his knees and frowned. Before he went anywhere, he would need to get his own clothes back.

He slipped onto the floor and crawled across the hallway into the laundry room. Hannibal must have kept his clothes if he kept his other victims’ clothes. His first instinct was to open the dryer, which looked full even though he hadn’t seen Hannibal unload it in weeks. When he opened the door a pile of oozing blood and body parts fell onto the floor. Severed limbs and organs flopped against the tile noisily, blood running towards him over the floor. He scrambled back against the wall, unable to breathe.

However, he blinked and there was no more blood, no more entrails, no more severed arms and legs. What lay on the floor in a disorderly pile was a bunch of clothes. Will exhaled the breath he’d been holding. He clasped his hand over his racing heart and curled over himself. He was seeing things again. More reason he needed to get out.

He sifted through strange clothes, including women’s underwear and clothes that were nowhere near his size. He felt sick as he touched what had been the last victims’ outfits. He could feel their pain through the fabric, and he knew whether they were strangled, stabbed, or worse. With shaking hands he threw mounds of clothes to the side. Digging deeper into the dryer until finally he came across the clothes he had been wearing the night he stumbled into the basement.

He sighed in relief as he clutched his green flannel shirt and khaki pants to his chest. He was grateful for the lack of a horrific surprise that accompanied when he held the familiar articles. Smiling, he slipped out of the skirt and into his own pants, noticing that the waist was looser on him. Next, he pulled a thick sweater over his head and nestled back into his comfortable flannel for the first time in months. He sighed as he looked down at his arms and legs, finally covered appropriately.

Now all he had to do was open the door. He crawled back out of the laundry room, but hesitated before the notch in the hardwood floor that marked the line he wasn’t supposed to cross. The front door was only about ten feet past the mark. But just the presence of the notch alone made it seem like a whole mile. He remembered the knife that Hannibal had wedged there in between the wood. The night he begged shamelessly to be allowed out of the basement for just a few hours a day. It felt like a lifetime ago, but the message was still clear in his mind. _“Don’t cross this line or I’ll cut you up.”_

Will swallowed, his throat like sandpaper. He would have to do it. It was now or never, he reminded himself. He moved past the notch and straight across the hallway to the front door. He lifted his arm to twist the handle, but paused about halfway there when a firm hand gripped his wrist in the air.

He turned his head to meet Hannibal’s piercing maroon eyes, staring at him with disappointment. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“I’m leaving.” Will answered flatly. He yanked his hand back and held it against his chest.

“And you’ll go where?” Hannibal continued, his tone venomous.

“I—I have—“ Will stammered.

Hannibal laughed. “You don’t have a home anymore, Will. They think you’re dead, they sold it. Try again,”

“Jack…” he tried.

Hannibal sneered. “He doesn’t care about you, Will. He thinks you’re dead and he gave up trying to find your body barely a month after you went missing. No one else loves you, Will. I’m all you have.”

“B-but I’m not free here,” Will stammered, staring up at his warped reflection in the shiny doorknob. He was only a few inches of wood away from the outside world. All he had to do was push. But his arm stayed trembling in the air, fingers barely reaching the doorknob.

The mirage of Hannibal loomed over him, hands clamped over his shoulders. His warm breath tickled the back of Will’s neck when he spoke. “If you leave, no one will ever love you as much as I do,” he warned.

Will shook with a dry sob. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I have to.” He grasped the doorknob and twisted it, the door finally jamming free. “Goodbye, Hannibal,” he whispered, shoving the door open.

Outside, it smelled like fresh rain on pavement, sunlight shrouded in heavy clouds touched his skin, and the patter of raindrops on damp earth was like music to his ears.He would have laughed in joy and relief. He would have sprung forward and reveled in his newfound freedom, letting the rain drench his skin and wash away the horrors of the past months.

But he couldn’t. He wasn’t alone. “H-hannibal?” he asked breathlessly, reaching towards the figure before him. Was he real? Or was he another hallucination?

Hannibal sighed, his shoulders drooping forward. “I really hoped you wouldn’t open the door, Will.”

Will grappled for excuses, his heart racing. “I-I’m sorry, you were just gone for so long…I won’t do it again…It was a mistake…I should have trusted you…”

Hannibal glanced down at his watch. “I said I’d be back by seven. It’s barely six thirty,”

Will choked, mind reeling. “I love you,” he panted, sweat breaking out on his forehead despite the cool air.

“I do wish you wouldn’t lie to me,” Hannibal sighed, standing up and turning back towards the house. He glared down at Will, his eyes reflecting pain and betrayal. He truly had hoped Will wouldn’t leave. He’d set the trap for him to test his loyalty, waiting on the doorstep for hours, hanging onto the possibility that Will would follow his instructions. He did love Will back, possibly even more than Will loved him. Regret pierced through Will’s chest at the realization that he’d just hurt Hannibal at his very core.

Hannibal stepped towards him and he snapped out of his empathy. He _had_ meant to hurt Hannibal. He was a hostage. He was the victim here, not Hannibal. Will threw himself forward over the threshold of the front door. “No!” he shouted, “I’m leaving.”

Hannibal let him crawl past his feet, struggle down the front steps, and drag himself toward the front gate. He trailed behind him calmly, his rage simmering underneath his skin like a lid over a pot. Every movement was a betrayal against him, piercing his heart like a double-edged sword. Every movement Will made against him would only add to his awaiting punishment; another day alone in the basement, another scar mutating his beautiful body, another week rendered lame. He didn’t have to warn Will that his actions would come back to haunt him. He knew well enough, only moving forward out of desperation.

Hannibal pushed the gate open and let Will crawl out of his yard and into the street. Rain soaked his hair and plastered his clothes against his body. He pummeled through puddles on hands and knees, splashing mud over his exposed skin and scraping his palms on the rough asphalt. “Help me!” he shouted into the empty street.

“You’ll have to be louder than that,” Hannibal pushed. “The rain is coming down hard. It’ll drown out anything else,” he mused, glancing up and down the deserted street. The regular cars were parked idly by the sidewalks, while their owners were surely bundled up in their homes with their windows and doors locked.

“Help!” Will shouted even louder. “Help me!”

Hannibal sighed and rolled his eyes in disappointment. “That still won’t do it,” he looked between the houses on the sparse street. It was a wealthy suburb, so there were only a couple residents close enough to potentially hear anything. “Save him! Anyone!” Hannibal cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted into the evening. “Save him!”

He grinned and looked back down at the drenched body shaking in the middle of the road. “See? No one can hear you,” he shrugged.

Will whimpered, understanding the hopelessness of his situation. “Please…” he begged, his voice faint from all his useless screaming. He stared at one of the towering houses across the street, lights barely peeking through drawn blinds over every window. A sob caught in his throat.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Hannibal bent down and scooped Will into his arms like he weighed nothing. He shivered against the wet fabric of Hannibal’s shirt, every ounce of his being wanted to sink into the warm skin underneath and seek comfort. But he fought the urge once he realized he was not going to receive any form of comfort if he was brought back into the house.

“N-no!” Will fought against the arms that cradled him. He pushed against Hannibal’s chest and used the extra leverage to knock him square in the jaw. He was almost free, wobbling towards the ground with outstretched arms. Hannibal growled and tightened his grip around Will’s waist, throwing him forward onto the hood of his Bentley that was parked in front of his driveway.

The blow against his back knocked the wind out of him. Before he could flip himself onto his stomach to dive off the hood of the car, a flat hand hit the side of his face. His head knocked to the side, his other cheek bumping against the windshield. His face already stinging where Hannibal had slapped him, another blow knocked against the same cheek. This time, knuckles thumped against his smarting skin, no doubt leaving him with a black eye. He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as his head roared from the pain.

Hannibal gripped him by the collar of his shirt and pulled his limp body back into his arms. This time, carrying him with his arms wrapped around his waist and their chests pressed together. Will draped his arms around Hannibal’s neck and rested his forehead against his shoulder. He was half-conscious from the blows to his face, and his limbs were sore and heavy from dragging himself across the ground. He was terrified of what awaited him in the basement, but even more so he was crippled by the wrenching pain of betrayal that emanated off of Hannibal. He nuzzled into Hannibal’s neck and mewled softly, trying to mend both of their wounds.

The front door slammed shut and Will squeezed his eyes shut, face still buried in Hannibal’s chest, as he felt the cool air from the basement crawl over his skin. Seconds later, he was ripped away from his tight grip on the back of Hannibal’s shirt and thrown onto the cold floor. He forced himself up onto his hands and knees, his shoulder aching where it had smacked into the floor.

Hannibal pulled his soaked shirt over his head, tossing it into a corner. He bent down to do the same to Will’s shirt, although much more roughly. He tugged Will’s pants off next. Curious blue eyes watched him, and he smirked. “Don’t worry, it’s just because they’re wet,” he said, tossing the ruined clothes into the same corner as his own. He turned to his work table across the room, opening a metal drawer full of shiny surgical tools. His hand hovered over the selections until he finally decided on a curved knife, one intended for gutting fish. He held it up the light and grinned proudly, temporary forgetting the disappointment of who he had to use it on and particularly _why_ , and just reveling in the beauty of the sweet torture he was about to inflict.

The light bounced off of the polished blade and Will’s eyes glistened in the reflection. As Hannibal stepped towards him, he threw his body forward to paw at the man’s shoes and pant legs desperately. “Hannibal…” he said hoarsely, staring up at him with watery, pleading eyes. “I won’t do it again,” he promised, pulling himself up to hug Hannibal’s shins. He rose onto his knees and nuzzled his cheek against Hannibal’s crotch. “I can make it up to you,” he said seductively, blinking up at Hannibal.

Hannibal hesitated, he hadn’t expected this kind of a show, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. His cock witched as Will left open-mouthed kisses over the growing bulge in his pants, his hands moving up Hannibal’s thighs. It was tempting, but giving in wouldn’t teach him a lesson.

Hannibal rolled his eyes and kicked Will away. “Come on, don’t make a whore of yourself,” he scolded. “I wanted to give you something.”

Hannibal pointed up at the ceiling. There was a pulley with a long rope hooked through it above them. Will was sure he’d never seen it before. He’d memorized just about every inch of the basement when he’d been chained up there every day. This must have been what Hannibal was working on all week when he disappeared into the basement for hours on end. He reached up and pulled the knot of the noose down to his eye level, grinning with pride. His face fell when he glanced back at Will huddled on the floor, eyes as wide with horror. He sighed dramatically, like a parent about to spank their disobedient child: “ _I don’t like doing this any more than you like getting it. But it’s for your own good.”_

Hannibal pulled Will up by his hair, balancing him on his toes as he slipped the noose around his neck. Will instinctively reached up to tug at the rope that constricted his airflow. “W-wait…” he gasped.

Hannibal yanked the other end of the rope down and Will’s body rose off the floor until he was hanging by the noose around his neck. He choked and sputtered, trying to wedge his fingers underneath the scratchy rope. Hannibal pulled it even tighter, until his head started to grow fuzzy from lack of oxygen. “H-Hannibal, p-please,” he coughed, his paling and his eyes starting to roll back into his head.

Will’s pained, helpless pleading went straight to Hannibal’s cock. “Fuck,” he hissed, dropping the rope and lowering Will back onto the floor. Will coughed, hands massaging the red rope burn smarting around his neck. He started to curl into a fetal position, still gasping for air, but Hannibal pinned him down and climbed on top of him. 

Hannibal moved one hand off of Will to unzip his own pants, too impatient to take them all the way off. He tugged at Will’s underwear next, nearly ripping the fabric in his frenzy. “N-no,” Will whimpered, his voice barely recovered. He squirmed underneath Hannibal’s hold, kicking against the legs that wedged his thighs apart.

“What?” Hannibal scoffed impatiently. “I thought this is what you wanted,”

Will gave Hannibal a sharp glare: _Yeah, when I thought it would get me out of a punishment._ Hannibal ignored Will’s seething look, which was probably lucky for him. If he weren’t so desperate to take him, he’d definitely add an extra mark for his vile attitude. As he pulled his erection out of his pants and stroked himself to fullness, Will looked away timidly. He bit his lip, feeling a scarlet blush creep up his chest and heat his face. Hannibal grunted, looming over Will, close enough that rainwater dripped from the tips of his hair onto Will’s bare chest. Will shuddered from the anticipation of having the huge member inside of him again, aware of the blood rushing south and generating a prickling heat in between his thighs. “Please,” he breathed, not quite sure what he was begging for.

Hannibal grabbed Will’s hips and pulled his body closer, his damp back sliding across the concrete floor painfully. Will pushed against Hannibal’s thighs with the palms of his hands and pulled his knees to his chest, fighting hopelessly tofree himself. Hannibal ignored Will’s feeble attempts at resistance and dove down to wrap his hands around Will’s neck. When Will let go to push Hannibal’s wrists away, Hannibal took the opportunity to level himself with Will’s hole and thrust inside.

Will screamed, arching his back off of the floor and pushing his body against Hannibal’s chest. “Ow, stop—” he gasped before biting down on his bottom lip, knowing that his begging and pleading only excited Hannibal even more. The damage had already been done. Hannibal squeezed Will’s neck tighter, mimicking the shape of the noose with his own hands. His thumbs dug into Will’s windpipe and his long fingers wound around him tightly, restricting the blood flow to his head. Will writhed underneath Hannibal’s body, hands grappling at his throat as his eyes burned and his ears rang.

Hannibal groaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Will tightened around him, holding him inside and refusing to let him move any farther. His passage was painfully dry, and Hannibal finally considered he’d made a mistake by not preparing him properly. He relaxed his shoulders and sighed, staring down at the teary-eyed man underneath him. The soft whimpers and sobs escaping his swollen, pink lips didn’t do much to help the situation.

“Darling, please,” Hannibal whispered, releasing his neck to wipe the tears from Will’s face. Will choked in fear as he tried to quiet his sobs, an involuntary reaction to the invasive stretching inside of him as Hannibal swelled in response. “I know it hurts, but you have to relax so I can make it better.” He kissed Will’s face and neck, tongue lapping at the salty tears that left white streaks over his mud-caked skin.

Will flinched as Hannibal’s teeth grazed his collarbone, but a stern hand pushed his wrist to the floor above his head. “Don’t you dare try to run away from me again,” Hannibal growled, the endearing tone he’d had seconds before already gone. Will froze in response, anticipating a slap to the face or for fingers to squeeze around his throat again. Instead, Hannibal slammed his fist against the floor beside Will’s head, pushing against it as leverage as he ripped himself free from the tight rings of muscle that clamped around him like a vice. Will screamed as his sensitive skin ripped from the friction, overextended muscles burning.

“I told you I’d make it better. Now _don’t move_ ,” Hannibal hissed, his maroon eyes flashing over Will, making the younger man shudder in fear. He spread Will’s legs apart, digging his fingertips into the soft flesh of his inner thighs, and lowered himself down to press his lips against the abused hole before him. He moved his tongue around the clenched ring, working it open until he could push inside. Will whimpered and his legs twitched involuntarily under Hannibal’s strong hands. Hannibal ignored Will’s squirming, opening his mouth to encompass more of his tender flesh in starved, wet kisses.

Will lied back and bit his lip painfully to stop the primal moans that threatened to escape. “Hannibal,” he gasped as his tongue poked further inside of him. He was answered by a low groan as Hannibal moved his mouth away and leaned back to kneel in between Will’s spread legs. He licked his palm and stroked his throbbing erection with his own saliva. “Hang on,” he panted, pushing Will’s legs back and leveling his hips before thrusting forward.

Will moaned as he was filled again, this time without the dry, painful stretching of his tender skin. He reached up to pull Hannibal closer to him, but his wrists were immediately smacked aside and pinned back down over his head. Hannibal held Will’s wrists together in one hand and wrapped his other hand around Will’s neck, digging his fingers into the pulsing artery. Will choked and squirmed underneath Hannibal, but gave up as he realized that the more he struggled the tighter Hannibal crushed his windpipe.

Hannibal thrust into Will violently, groaning as his tight muscles clamped down over his length. Minutes later, his thrusts grew erratic and he growled deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest and into Will’s. Will whimpered, rocking his own hips up to meet Hannibal’s. Hannibal kissed Will’s jawline sloppily as he came deep inside of Will with one last thrust. Will yelped and came over his stomach as Hannibal’s cock twitched and emptied hot, thick semen against his prostate.

Hannibal let go of Will’s neck collapsed on top of Will, shoulders shaking from the effort of holding his weight up. He caught his breath, mouth and nose pressed to Will’s neck, teeth itching to break the skin and let the warm stream of his blood spill over his tongue . Finally, he sat up and pulled himself out of Will’s abused hole with gush of warm spent. Will looked up at him through hooded eyes, cheeks flushed and still glistening with fresh tears. Hannibal smiled down at him and stroked his face tenderly. “You did well,” he cooed.

Will’s expression changed from relief to fear as Hannibal reached behind him to pick up the ghastly knife he’d chosen. In the struggle, Will had forgotten all about his impending punishment.

Hannibal pushed the blade against Will’s throat. Will’s eyes widened, fear darkening his blue irises. He gaped like a fish out of water, his throat raw and aching from the strangling and the noose. “P-please,” he panted, his body trembling.

Hannibal looked genuinely pained. Apologetic even. But the sentiment was fleeting. An evil smile pulled at his lips as he sliced the blade through the soft skin just underneath Will’s chin. Will screamed as the tip of the knife dragged through him, leaving a harsh sting in its wake. A layer of skin peeled back and exposed a river of deep red blood and sinewy off-white tendons. Instinctively, Will reached up to cover the wound, wincing more from the sting of his grimy skin touching the open wound. The cut was short but deep, and in a spot where it would be painful, shocking, and inconvenient to sport a scar.

Hannibal sighed, casting the bloodied knife aside. “Now,” he panted, leaning back on his heels. He threw his head back and took a deep breath, eyes closed, like he was meditating. “Will you ever try to run away again?” he asked after a few seconds, bringing his attention back to Will. His voice was low and even, devoid of the animalistic rage he’d acted out only minutes before.

Will nodded so quickly that more blood pooled from the gash in between his fingers and ran down his neck. It was warm and thick on his skin, unlike the rain outside. He forced himself up to his knees, swaying as every small motion made him dizzy. He shuffled forward and fell into Hannibal’s outstretched arms, tucking his head underneath Hannibal’s chin and clinging to his back uselessly.

“Good,” Hannibal said. He lifted Will’s face up and kissed him softly. “I’ll fix you up then.”


	7. Necessary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone comes over to look for Will

The cut was deep enough to leave a nasty scar, but not deep enough to warrant stitches. Will bit back screams as Hannibal washed the wound with alcohol and antibiotic ointment before bandaging it. Now he had a thick cotton pad taped under his chin in addition to his bound ankles and the other scar that was still healing on his chest. No matter what he did or where he went there was no way he could avoid them.

He was back in the basement again, only seeing Hannibal when he came down to bring him food and water or to tend to his wounds. He asked if he would ever be allowed upstairs again, and Hannibal just shook his head solemnly. “That’s up to you,” he’d said. Will knew that meant he needed to behave and prove to Hannibal that he deserved to be allowed back upstairs. He was back to square one, and would have to work twice as hard to regain the level of trust he’d achieved before.

The day came sooner rather than later, to Will’s surprise. Hannibal had gotten lonely upstairs by himself all day, and he needed time to use the basement in private. He reluctantly brought Will upstairs to help him cook and do the dishes, keeping a sharp eye on him the whole time. Will stayed quiet, didn’t ask any questions, and was on his best behavior for Hannibal, hoping and hoping that one day he would let him sleep in his room again.

A couple weeks later, he still wasn’t allowed to sleep in his bedroom, but Hannibal trusted him enough to let him wander the kitchen and dining room downstairs while he left the house for short grocery runs. After what had happened before, the thought of trying to escape didn’t even cross Will’s mind. Hannibal knew this, obviously, or else he wouldn’t allow it. The only reason Will was still being denied sleeping in a bed instead of on the cold basement floor was for punishment.

Hannibal didn’t leave Will alone in the house often, only when he really needed to. One evening, he was called out of the house to attend to an emergency regarding one of his patients.

“Will, darling,” he called from the hallway, already putting his coat on. Will slid across the kitchen floor in his chair, eyes cast down. Hannibal smiled at him as he walked by, preparing to leave. “I’m sorry, but I have to rush over to my office right now. I won’t be long, though,” he petted Will’s head, misreading his vacant expression as concern. He bent down and kissed the top of Will’s head as a parent would their child. “Can you be a lamb and finish preparing dinner while I’m gone?” he asked. It wasn’t a request.

Will nodded and Hannibal’s face softened again. He stroked Will’s cheek softly before walking out the door, locking it heavily behind him.

Will sighed as he heard the front door lock. He scooted his chair back over to the kitchen counter where he had been cutting vegetables for dinner before Hannibal received his emergency call. The recipe card was laid out in front of him. He could follow directions if he had to, but he chopped the vegetables slowly hoping that Hannibal would return before he had to carry on with the next step alone. He had never been a great cook.

He was zoning out again, as he often did lately, when he was jolted back to reality by a quick knock on the door. He dropped the knife to the counter and froze, hearing his heartbeat like it was outside of his body. Just as he was beginning to think he had imagined it, there was another, louder knock. He gasped and sat up straighter, muscles coiling for flight even though his legs were still too lame to run.

He worried his lip as another knock came, more impatient than the last two. It couldn’t be Hannibal. He had his key. And he would have called out to him by now. No one ever came over while Will was allowed out of the basement.

He rolled across the kitchen tile slowly, fearing that every sound could be heard from outside.He clutched the doorframe and peeked into the hallway. There was no way he could see who it was. He cursed under his breath as another knock jolted him in his seat. He gnawed on his cuticle before coming up with a plan. He slipped out of his chair and onto the floor, crawling over the hard wood as fast as he could until he reached the linen closet.

Just as he reached up to open the closet, the front door handle began to rattle. Whoever was out there, they were trying to break in now. He quickly opened the closet and slipped inside, shutting the door behind him carefully. He pressed his back against the wall and pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible. He closed his eyes even though he was in total darkness as he listened to the doorknob rattle.

Finally, it stopped. He heard voices, low and muffled, from outside. He held his breath and listened, releasing it when he recognized Hannibal’s voice among them. Thank God, he was back. He could deal with an intruder. He wouldn’t let anyone else hurt Will.

But then the front door opened and two people came inside. Will’s heart skipped a beat and he clamped his hand over his mouth.

“What is it you think you saw, Ms. Katz?” Hannibal asked, his voice was cordial and polite, but he projected loud enough to alert Will, wherever he was, that someone was here and he had to hide. Luckily, he was one step ahead of him.

Will closed his eyes and choked back a sob, fighting to stay quiet. One of his friends was _here._ She was barely ten feet away. He could see her shadow underneath the door as she walked by the closet. Was she looking for him? He whimpered softly, wanting so badly to see her again, but terrified of what Hannibal would do to either of them if he revealed himself.

They walked into the kitchen, hovering near the doorway. “The apartment complex across the street reported some strange activity from one of their security cameras. It looked like it was coming from your driveway,” Beverly explained, a tinge of suspicion in her voice as she addressed Hannibal. From the closet, Will silently begged her to let it go and leave while she still could.

“Huh,” Hannibal mused. “That’s odd,”

“Sure is,” she said, holding her ground. It wasn’t like her to give up. She was headstrong and questioned everything. It was her best quality, one of the many reasons Will was fond of her, but he feared it might be her downfall.

Will wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his forehead on his knees, wishing he didn’t have to hear what happened next. He shifted his weight ever so slightly and felt a dip in the floor underneath him. He forgot there was a latch to a small underground cubby in that closet. He’d found it while cleaning it out one day. It was dark and sort of dusty, but it might be his best option.

Hannibal and Beverly stared at each other for several long seconds, neither wanting to back down. Finally, Beverly broke the silence. “Do you mind if I look around?” she asked. “Just doing my job,” she added with a wry smile.

“Go ahead,” Hannibal motioned into the kitchen and she walked ahead of him. He followed several feet behind her, watching her every move while scanning the room for any place Will could be hiding.

Beverley made mental notes of everything she found to be even the slightest bit out of place. There was an old office chair near the doorway of the kitchen, and the counter looked as if he had stopped in the middle of preparing dinner. She stared down at the half-chopped carrot next to a bowl of other diced vegetables, and an old index card with a recipe for beef bourguignon scribbled onto it in neat cursive. Hannibal claimed he had to leave for an unexpected emergency, so it wasn’t too strange a sight.

The kitchen felt warm, and she turned around and noticed the oven light was on. She cocked her head to the side and stepped in for a closer look. “Doctor Lecter, you left your oven on,” she noted.

He rushed over and switched it off. “My mistake,” he said, looking embarrassed. “I was preheating it and must have forgotten to turn it off before I left,” he explained. It was a perfectly human thing to do, but she still didn’t buy it. She only nodded, moving on through the kitchen.

She opened the cabinets under the sink, above the stove, checked the pantry, and still didn’t find anything incriminating. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but do you mind if I take a look upstairs, too?” she asked. Hannibal nodded, looking only mildly irritated.

Before following her upstairs, he grabbed the knife from the kitchen counter and slipped it into his back pocket, underneath his shirt. She hadn’t thought to remove any weapons. This was a “casual” search after all. She had no warrant, only a sneaking suspicion from a security camera across the street. She had claimed to be doing Hannibal a favor, so that he wouldn’t have to worry about a search with an actual warrant by someone less familiar with him. She was simply “clearing his name” for him. Hannibal hadn’t bought it for a second. Whatever she saw on that security footage, it convinced her Hannibal was hiding something.

Hannibal cleared his throat as Beverley searched the now empty guest bedroom, the chains long since stored away in the basement. “If I may ask, Ms. Katz,” he started. She turned to him and raised an eyebrow expectantly. “What did you say you saw on that tape?”

She smirked. “I didn’t say,” she corrected. Hannibal nodded knowingly. She hesitated before answering. “There was someone in the street. Someone said he looked like Will Graham,”

“Oh,” Hannibal feigned shock, stepping back and rubbing his temple. He shook his head. “Well, Ms. Katz, I’m sorry to say I haven’t seen him since he disappeared. Are you sure—“

“I know, Hannibal. I’m just doing my job,” she answered quickly, moving back about the room.

Hannibal knew the person who had made that observation was her and her alone. If anyone else agreed with her hunch, she wouldn’t be here alone. She’d either already shown other people the tape and no one believed her, or was afraid that if she showed other people they wouldn’t believe her. She was taking this on all by herself, against the rules. She might’ve been the last person who cared so much about finding Will Graham.

Hannibal trailed her through the rest of the upstairs rooms, making polite small talk all the way. When she was done searching, she sighed heavily at the bottom of the stairs and shrugged. “I’m sorry again to inconvenience you, Dr. Lecter,” she said, forcing a kind smile although her eyes gave away her disappointment. This wasn’t over.

“Of course,” Hannibal nodded. He gestured for her to follow him down the hall, resting a hand gently on her back. They made it halfway to the front door when Beverley stopped, turning her head to look at the linen closet in the hallway. Hannibal went still.

“May I?” she asked, gesturing to the closet door.

Hannibal smiled and nodded, his arm slowly reaching for the knife behind his back as she stepped towards the closet. Will was nowhere else in the house, leaving the closet as his last potential hiding spot. Hannibal highly doubted he’d gone into the basement by himself, especially with little time to hide. He couldn’t have made it down the rickety ladder on his own.

Beverley opened the closet door, turning the knob hesitantly. Clearly, she had the same idea. Had she seen him? Had he made some kind of sound or alerted her to his whereabouts somehow? He would have to ask later.

The closet door swung open and Hannibal brought his arm down. The knife stuck out of Beverley’s back as she gasped. Her hands flew up to his shoulder and she stumbled backwards into Hannibal’s arms, blood already gurgling in the back of her throat.

Hannibal blinked down at the empty closet. He had been so sure that Will was in there. They both had. He looked down at the dying woman in his arms, her fingers twitching and her eyes wide in shock. He stroked her hair back from her forehead and sighed. “I’m sorry, Beverley,”

She croaked and sputtered, unable to speak. Hannibal stared down at her, genuinely remorseful, but only for a second. “You were right,” he told her. “Will should have been in there,” he added. Confusion crossed over her pained expression before he wrapped his hands around her throat and crushed her windpipe, holding her still against his chest as she thrashed and choked.

Once Beverley fell limp in his arms, Hannibal sighed at the empty closet. “Where are you?” he whispered. He hoisted Beverley’s body over his shoulder and carried her down to the basement, settling her face down on a strip of plastic. The knife still stuck out of her back, blood slowly leaking out of the wound and staining her jacket. If he pulled it out, there would be a much bigger mess to clean up. He would save the mess for later, he had better plans for her. But before he could start on anything he needed to find his missing captive.

He hurried back out of the basement and stared into the still empty closet. “Will!” he called. Nothing. “Will!” he ran up the stairs and into the guest bedroom. He looked under the bed, in the closet, in the bathroom, tearing up everything in his path. “Dammit,” he cursed. “Where did you go?” he yelled into the empty house.

Had he escaped? Had he crawled out while he was at his office? Was he gone for good? How far could he have gone without his legs in such a short amount of time? Someone must have seen him. Maybe he got someone to pick him up and take him to the police station. Would he really give Hannibal up? Had Hannibal made the biggest mistake of his life trusting him?

He stormed down the hall, tearing through the kitchen and dining room next, then his study. Still nothing. He checked the upstairs rooms once more, a throaty scream escaping his lips when every single crevice turned up empty. He fell to his knees, pulling his hair, his blood boiling. “Fuck!” he punched the floor, ignoring the pulsing pain in his knuckles. How dare Will betray him? After all he did for him? He’d gone out of his way to make the man comfortable, to show him how much he loved him. And this is what he got in return?

He stood back up and marched down the stairs. He threw the front door open and ran into the street. He had tunnel vision, the edges tinged with red. “Will!” he called. He looked up and down the empty street. No signs of him anywhere. “Will!” he shouted over and over again, running down the sidewalk, peeking into the shrubs and under parked cars. “Where the _fuck_ did you go?” he growled to himself.

He finally stopped about a block down from his house, out of breath and blurry eyed. He’d left his front door unlocked and wide open in his haste. But he truly didn’t care if anyone got in. He’d deal with that later. Nothing mattered if Will got away. If he couldn’t have him…

He slumped his head against a telephone pole in the middle of the sidewalk, gripping it in his hands as if it were someone’s neck. “I’ll kill you,” he whispered to no one. He shook his head, pulling one hand back and slamming his fist against the splintery pole. “I’ll have to kill you,” he repeated, lifting his head.

Determined, Hannibal jogged back to his house, bursting through the front door and down into the basement. He ripped the knife out of Beverley’s back and stomped back up the stairs. He was going to find Will Graham, slit his throat, and eat him. He marched down the hall to retrieve his car keys from the kitchen counter, but stopped in his tracks when something moved in the corner of his eye. He whipped around, flashing the knife at the intruder, and was met with wide eyes and a soft whimper.

“Hannibal?”

Hannibal dropped the knife, blood splattering over the hardwood floor where it landed. He fell to his knees in front of the meek body on the floor. “Will…” he sighed.

Will bit his quivering lip. “What did you…?” he trailed off, unable to finish his question, swallowing back a sob.

Hannibal pulled the man into his arms, just glad that he hadn’t left him, that now he didn’t have to kill him. Will stared over Hannibal’s shoulder at the bloody knife on the floor. He trembled and whined softly against Hannibal’s chest. He’d heard only muffled voices and footsteps from where he hid in the secret cubby in the closet. As much as he strained to hear Hannibal and Beverley’s conversation, he couldn’t tell exactly what was going on. He’d come back out as soon as the voices and heavy footsteps stopped, only to find the front door wide open and Hannibal nowhere to be found.

“You scared me, Will,” Hannibal said, his voice shaking. He hugged Will tighter and then let him go to caress his face in his hands. Will was surprised to see Hannibal so vulnerable, with teary eyes and trembling hands. It made his chest ache. He reached up and held Hannibal’s hands over his face.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Will whispered back.

Hannibal nodded, stroking his thumb over Will’s cheek softly. “It’s okay,” he smiled, his eyes warm. “I thought I lost you,” he admitted. “I thought you left,”

Will shook his head. “I wouldn’t…” his voice broke. “What—what happened to Beverley?” he finally asked, his eyes flitting back to the knife on the floor.

Hannibal pulled Will’s face back towards him, holding his chin in place. “You don’t need to worry about her,” Hannibal said. Will searched his face for any hint of what had happened, but all he could see was Hannibal’s relief that he hadn’t left. Common sense told him that all the stomping around, coming up to an empty house, and the bloody knife in Hannibal’s hand when he’d come back didn’t look good.

Will closed his eyes and leaned into Hannibal’s hands. Hannibal pulled him to his chest and tucked his head under his chin, gently stroking his hair. Will tried to relax, listening to the slow thrum of Hannibal’s heartbeat and feeling the soft fabric of his dress shirt on his cheek, but the knife on the floor still beckoned his attention. He squeezed his eyes shut as tears threatened to escape, and clenched his jaw around an ache in his throat. He wanted to ask Hannibal what had happened, where Beverley was, if she was alive, but he already knew the answers. Would hearing it make it any better? No, he decided, it wouldn’t.

“Darling, why don’t we go to bed early tonight?” Hannibal finally asked. “You can sleep in my bed with me, would you like that?”

Hannibal tilted Will’s chin back up so that he could see his face. His blue eyes glistened with stray tears as he nodded meekly. Hannibal stroked Will’s cheeks with his thumbs, wiping away any tears that he’d missed. “You can sleep in your bedroom again from now on,” he promised. “No more basement,” he smiled warmly.

Will nuzzled his face into Hannibal’s chest, wrapping is arms around his neck in a loose hug. He shuddered with quiet sobs, knowing exactly why Hannibal didn’t want him to go back into the basement. He was so relieved that he wouldn’t have to see, and that he wouldn’t have to sleep another night on the cold concrete floor surrounded by the stench of blood and death, but his heart ached knowing Hannibal’s kindness came from all the wrong places.

“Thank you,” he whispered, lifting his head to kiss Hannibal’s cheek. Hannibal hummed and held him tighter, rocking back and forth slightly.

“All is forgiven, baby,” he said, his voice low and even against Will’s head. “You won’t be without me again.”

**Author's Note:**

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